


Etched In Blood

by Waking_dreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood Drinking, Bottom Harry, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top Louis, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waking_dreams/pseuds/Waking_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's first time meeting a vampire did not go as expected.</p><p>“Fuck, you taste like blood and my cock,” Louis groaned, pulling away wild-eyed. </p><p>Not as expected at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etched In Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ziamfcks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziamfcks/gifts).



> For ziamfcks as part of the 1dexchangeforall. Prompt was for kinky vampire sex, I hope this delivered!
> 
> A huge thank you to my betas, you guys rocked.
> 
> Also a warning for BDSM-like elemants, some blood play that isn't too graphic, and the use of the word slut in a smutty context.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“This is the vampire club!” Niall whisper-yelled into Harry’s ear over the terrible thumping remix of “Love in This Club.”

Harry very nearly spat out his mouthful of—what had he ordered again? Whatever it was, it was fruity and probably too strong to be starting the night with. “There are vampires?” he whisper-yelled back. He didn’t see any. That was kind of the point, though. Vampires were supposed to blend in.

Niall shrugged, his shoulder bumping into Harry as some woman pushed against him. “Overheard someone in line for the bathroom.”

Harry frowned. Not the most reliable source of the century. He hadn’t ever met a vampire, and ever since he had made the mistake of drunkenly confessing to Niall that he hadn’t, his best friend had starting dragging him out every weekend to different clubs to find one. Niall had met one at a concert, the lucky bastard. The government claimed that around .4% of the population had been turned, but that number seemed a bit high in Harry’s opinion. He stared at his drink, trying to determine how many people there would need to be in the club for him to statistically be able to meet a vampire. At least 200.

“Fuck it,” he declared, deciding that the exact number was beyond his mathematical capabilities. “Let’s dance.”

Niall grinned at him, and after downing the rest of his beer, followed Harry into the throng of bodies. Thankfully, someone had taken over the music and Usher was no longer playing. The new song was bass-heavy and just slow enough for Harry to really get into a roll of his hips along with the beat. The half drink he had wasn’t nearly enough for him to feel like a good dancer, but at least no one else in the area was paying attention to him. Niall was no better, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other, scanning the area for any especially attractive women. Harry was the worst wingman ever, he knew, but Niall never seemed to struggle particularly hard. In fact—

“I’m going for it,” Niall said as the song changed. He was eyeing a blonde woman, sitting at a table by herself. “You good, Hazza?”

Harry laughed, and shoved Niall in her direction. She really was beautiful, he supposed. “Text me if I’m taking a cab home by myself,” he yelled at his friend’s retreating back.

Now by himself, he managed to get back into the groove of the music, lazily looking around him. The vampire club. He took his time to focus on each of the people closest to him. How did you tell if they were a vampire? Obviously, there were the fangs—but it wasn’t like any of the nearby people were flashing toothy smiles anyways. But it was at that moment that Harry saw him, visible briefly through a break in the crowd.

He was beautiful. Medium height, but holding himself perfectly straight in such a way that he seemed to tower over those near him. Perfectly groomed hair, combed back away from his angled face. Thin, powerful lips curved into a smirk. And—just before the crowd swallowed him again, poignant blue eyes.

Harry didn’t know if he was a vampire or not, but he did know that he wanted that man grinding against his ass. Preferably now.

He made his way through the crowd, bumping from person to person and nearly tripping over some poor woman’s dress. And then—well.

He was better up close.

It was up close that Harry could appreciate the entire look—from the sleek trousers hugging his thighs in a way that should be illegal to the high collared coat that was entirely too upscale for this particular establishment. He looked like a man who had an immaculate level of control over his life, and though Harry was taller by at least a few inches, he felt as though he was looking up at this man.

“I’m Harry,” he offered loudly, and then the man’s eyes were on him, sizing him up. He considered offering a hand, but stopped himself. Just because the man was dressed like he was attending a business dinner didn’t mean he was going to—

The man’s mouth quirked up in the corner and his gaze finally made its way up Harry’s face—did he linger on his mouth? Fuck—to his eyes. Harry was so gone.

“I’m Louis,” the man said, and Jesus, he would have the voice of an angel.

Harry wanted to ask if he sang, because he wanted that voice on every guitar track on his iTunes. He wanted that voice in his ear, saying his name—Jesus. He could feel himself staring. “Louis,” he said slowly, drawing out the second syllable and smiling his most charming smile. “Dance with me?”

Louis smirked—smirked—at him and then took him by the hand, tugging him closer. Harry felt like his heart was going to fall out of his body. He hesitantly slid an arm around Louis’ neck, brushing against his baby-soft hair, and rolled his body closer along with the music. Now was the time to be a good dancer, if he was even capable. Louis’ other hand made its way to his hip and wrapped tightly around him, connecting their bodies.

“Lewis,” he choked out on a laugh. “The point of dancing with me is that we both dance.”

This earned him a laugh—a high, floating laugh—and hips pressing into his own on the next downbeat.  Then a mouth was at his ear, warm, sweet breath spilling over his neck. His body shuddered and jerked closer into Louis—fuck, it was all Louis. The strength in his arms, his thighs, the delightfully tight grip on his hip, the hint of his cock when their hips slid across each other. He pulled back enough to see Louis’ face, meet those shockingly blue eyes. His mouth was curved into a sinful smile and—wait, were those fangs?

Harry froze. “You’re a vampire?!” He felt like he was going to pass out. The paramedics would have to roll a gurney into the club. And he’d probably still be hard as they took him to the hospital.

Louis’ smile slipped into a crooked smirk. “Bingo, babe,” he replied huskily. Harry had to force himself to not tremble at the sound.

Harry’s heart was pounding. “I’m torn between interviewing you and asking you to kiss me,” he blurted out, staring at Louis’ mouth in hopes of seeing his fangs. He paused, considering. “Can you even kiss people? With the fangs and all?” He asked curiously. He raised a hand to touch his own mouth, trying to imagine it.

“Would you like to find out?” Louis purred back. Warm lips brushed against Harry’s neck, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“Please,” he replied, and it came out embarrassingly high, almost a whimper.

And then Louis was kissing him.

It was like an electric shock coursed through his system. Louis tasted like perfection, kissed like an expert, just enough pressure and enough of a hint of tongue to drive Harry fucking crazy. His mouth was warm and soft, Harry’s body buzzing at every point of contact between them, his body a live wire. The scruff on Louis’ chin scraped against Harry’s face, and he groaned, taking Louis’ lip between his teeth.

That earned him a hand tangled tightly in his hair yanking his head back, and a kiss against his throat. “Dangerous game, Harry,” Louis murmured hoarsely, sucking lightly on his neck.

“Louis,” he whined, thrusting his hips forward.

Then they were kissing again, harder, hotter. Louis’ mouth slanted across his, his tongue a hot brand in his mouth. The hand stayed in his hair, directing the kiss, and providing just enough of a burn on his scalp that he felt his eyes roll back into his head. He slipped his fingers in the baby soft hairs at the base of Louis’ skull and grabbed—then felt more than heard the resulting throaty groan. Their cocks pressed together, separated by entirely too many layers of clothing, and Harry moaned back, dragging his nails down the vampire’s back.

That’s when he felt it—the brush of a fang across his lip.

And he knew already. In theory. He knew that the human body reacted powerfully to a vampire bite, that it produced a powerful endorphin rush that could even become addictive. But knowing and knowing are two very different things, and he didn’t know.

His body froze, heat boiling in his veins, and all of his senses were  focused at the tiny place where a fang very nearly broke his skin, at the site of a tiny prickling sensation. His blood surged, a dull roar in his ears, and he sagged into Louis, breaking his mouth away with a gasp—he wanted it, wanted to beg for it. Wanted the feeling of completeness he just knew it would bring, wanted the deep high, bite me—

“I can’t here, babe,” Louis groaned, and Harry realized he had been speaking aloud. “Come with me.” It was a request, but one cracked through gritted teeth and in a rough timbre.

His surroundings came flooding back in an instant. The club. The shitty DJ. Dozens of bodies surrounding him, undulating. They weren’t alone.

“To your freaky vampire crypt?” Harry asked. Niall would give him so much shit for going home with someone he hadn’t even known an hour. Not because he would disapprove, but because he would want all the credit for it, since he chose the club. You owe me, Hazza, I got you laid myself. God. Unbearable.

Louis rolled his eyes. “No, Harold, to my flat. Spend the night. The normal thing.” He punctuated his words with another roll and drag of his hips.

“Yes.” His entire body was on high alert, sensitive to the brush of his clothes on his skin, the tightness of his chest, the thudding of his heart. He wanted this like he had never wanted anything—anyone—before. He wanted the bite—he wanted the cock he could faintly still feel pressed across his hip like a brand. “God, yes.” He didn’t even care how desperate he sounded.

Louis roughly kissed him again, nipping, sucking—fuck. He whined, jerking forward, feeling the light press of a fang to his bottom lip. He wouldn’t last another five minutes at this rate, let alone long enough to get to wherever Louis lived. He felt like he was going to melt.

“Come on, then,” Louis whispered, breaking away from him. He took a step backward and it was then that Harry could really appreciate him: his stocky boots shoved over tight, dark trousers, his delicate looking hands, his fucking sex hair—had Harry done that? He felt a sudden flare of something in his chest at the thought of leaving proof on Louis, a brand or tattoo that said I was here.

“Yes,” was all he could manage in response, and then he was taken by the hand—Louis’ hand fit so perfectly in his, small and sturdy—and lead through the pulsing mass of people.

He had just enough sense to remember Niall and whip out his phone to compose a text with one hand. Leaving with someone. Nail-painting emoji. Call you tomorrow.

Outside the club, it was suddenly cold—like diving into a pool after sitting in a hot tub. Shivering, he pressed closer to Louis, bumping their shoulders together.

“Let me get my car,” Louis said huskily, and pressed a coat over Harry’s shoulders before vanishing.

Harry touched the material of the coat, feeling entirely too charmed by the gesture. Fuck. It smelled like him, too, all honey and spice. He pressed it against his face, inhaling, and shuddering at what it did to him. He was so gone. He’d probably come before Louis even got him out of the car.

And then Louis was pulling up in a dark—was that a Bentley?

When Harry slid into the passenger seat, he was giggling.

“What, Harold?” Louis demanded, sending him a glare with no heat.

“If Batman were a 60 year old woman, he’d drive this car,” Harry told him with a grin, clicking his seatbelt into place.

Louis huffed out a laugh. “It’s not mine, but I’ll pass along the message.” He pressed a button on the dash, and then thumping bass filled the car and Beyoncé’s voice floated above it all, high and oh, Daddy Daddy didn’t bring the towel.

If this was a seduction attempt it could not be going better.

Harry slid a glance over to Louis. He was blushing slightly, his hand hovering over the stereo. Maybe not on purpose then. Well, it was working anyways.

“Louis,” Harry whispered. He shifted in his seat, his pants tight across his lap. “Can I—can I suck you off?”

“Fuck.” Louis eyes darted off the road, hot and dark, zeroing in on his face, his mouth. His mouth parted, displaying just a hint of a fang, and Harry’s cock twitched in his pants.

“Please,” Harry added, and it wasn’t supposed to be high and broken, but it was, it was.

Louis audibly exhaled, shaky as well, and yes, and then Harry was leaning across the console to suck into the skin below Louis’ ear. He slipped a hand lower, pressing into Louis’ lap—fuck, he was so, so hard. He didn’t want to be patient—he wanted his head in Louis’ lap, full of his cock, gagging on it, making a mess of himself. He pressed a hand against his own cock at the thought, hips jerking into his hand. Fuck. He undid the zipper on Louis’ trousers and Louis helped him to push his briefs and pants down to mid-thigh and then—fuck.

Louis was thick, beautifully formed—from the vein along his cock to the wetness at its head. Harry whimpered at the sight, and then he had a hand wrapped around Louis’ cock and his lips pressing against the head. Louis’ hips jerked beneath him, smearing a line of precome across Harry’s cheek—he groaned, moving back to capture the head of Louis’ cock with his lips. He lapped at the head, groaning at the distinctly salty taste, and swirled his tongue around the tip, feeling more than hearing Louis’ moan above him. It spurred him on, and he sucked hard, sliding down Louis’ cock several inches.

He could feel Louis’ stomach collapse as his breath stuttered, uneven and unsteady. He gripped Louis’ cock with the other hand, building up a joint rhythm between his hands and mouth, twisting and sucking. The head of Louis’ cock poked at his cheeks, his own spit sliding down over his hands, and Louis was still driving. Harry was torn between trying to evoke a reaction from Louis—an unsteady lane change or a rough brake, perhaps—and simply basking in the sensation of being ignored, of serving, of being entirely inappropriate.

Either way, Harry fucking loved sucking cock. He loved the taste, the feeling of being full, loved having his hair pulled and his control taken away, loved the tears that bubbled forth when he got his throat fucked, loved cock. And so when Louis moaned his name and slid one hand from the steering wheel to tug at his hair, he couldn’t help but wetly moan back, bouncing his head to take more, take less, give and take. The hand in his hair tightened. Please gag me. Gag me. The thought of Louis’ hand forcing him down, the feeling of having the last bit of his control stripped from him—

It was at that moment that the car hit a speed bump, pressing Louis’ cock up hard, and he gagged, drooling and pulling up with a sputter, and saw stars. Louis swore above him, arching his hips up once as if he couldn’t help it, and the car’s motion stuttered as Louis clumsily pumped the brakes. Fuck. A reaction it was, and then Harry was back at it, slurping obscenely, getting off on the noise as well as the feeling and the knowledge that this was for Louis. Harry felt filthy. It didn’t matter how dark the windows were tinted or how dark it was outside, he was in a car, in public, while Louis was driving, and he couldn’t stop if he tried.

“We’re here,” Louis whispered, sounding wrecked, and Harry hadn’t even noticed the car pulling to a stop. He pulled off Louis’ cock with a pop, and Louis swore as they made eye contact.

Louis looked undone. His mouth hung open, fangs brushing against his lower lip, and his cheeks were flushed a color that Harry found surprising on a vampire. And his eyes, blown wide—had they always been that dark? He found himself shivering involuntarily under Louis’ gaze. Suddenly he could see Louis as a predator, some very human part of him tense at this realization.

When Louis leaned in to kiss him, he closed his eyes and forced himself to be still, his heart still pounding in a fear-lust, one-two combo for an early heart attack. Perhaps sensing his erratic pulse, Louis was surprisingly gentle, his hands cupping Harry’s face as his lips pressed against Harry’s mouth. He moved his mouth slowly, coaxing Harry into responding. Like he was slowly being melted, Harry felt his fear fade and he kissed him back, flicking his tongue at Louis’ lips. He pressed himself closer, slipping his hand between them to tug at Louis’ collar.

“Harry—“ Louis broke off roughly. “Inside, yeah?” The look he gave him was urgent, heated.

He swallowed roughly, nodding, and released the vice grip he had on Louis’ shirt and his arm, leaning back. The sight of Louis carefully tucking his cock—shiny and engorged—back inside his pants, had Harry torn between a smirk and a moan. The shaky breath that slid from his lips had Louis’ gaze back on him in an instant, appraising him.

“You want it, baby?” he breathed, and Harry’s heart stuttered. “Bet you do. Come on.” He opened the driver’s door, sliding out.

Harry took a deep breath, tasting the sex on the air, and his stomach did an excited flip. Fuck. He almost tripped on his way out of the car, Louis’ hand seizing his arm to steady him—Harry jumped at the surprise of how quick Louis could move. Being reminded that Louis was a vampire, indirect as it was, had his blood surging faster in anticipation. The bite.

Louis’ hand steered him away from the car—right, inside. Louis’ flat. Harry was half-expecting to see a Gothic mansion sprawling in front of him. He was wrong. Incidentally, so was Louis: it definitely did not count as a flat. It was a townhouse, white paint and large, modern windows—how rich was Louis, honestly? A townhouse, in the middle of the city? A grandmotherly Batman style car?

Louis pressed a key into the lock, and then Harry was being lead inside, caught between the desire to admire the décor and the desire to slam the door and drag Louis’ by his hair to the ground or nearest surface. The choice ended up not being his.

No sooner than the door was shut, Louis slammed him against it, trapping both his hands above his head and seizing his jaw in the other hand, rendering him immobile. His breath ghosted over Harry’s face, and then he was kissing him, hard. Teeth and suction and tongues and fangs. Harry whined, struggling in his hold. Louis was strong—he effortlessly pinned both of Harry’s arms with a single hand. It made him feel lightheaded, like every bit of blood surged from his brain into his cock. Louis kissed him harder, sliding a hand to pull on the hairs at the base of his neck. Harry jerked, groaning, and one of Louis’ fangs slipped and then the rustic tang of blood filled their mouths.

It was like something had been ripped open deep in his gut. He surged closer to Louis, rocking his cock into his hips, and Louis growled, yanking him by the hair so that his head was tilted back and—fuck. Louis took his lip in his mouth and sucked hard at the cut, and it was like he was on fire, his entire being centered around that cut where Louis’ tongue was probing his very life-force. He felt hot, sweaty, out of control, his hips building up a steady rhythm against Louis’ thigh, desperate for friction on his cock, aching inside his jeans. Louis pressed his thigh up hard against him and sucked on his lip, dragging his fangs across his mouth. White-hot pleasure spilled over him, and then Harry was jerking and coming with a desperate cry, his eyes fluttering shut as his body shook.

Louis tore his mouth off of Harry’s then, his lips and elongated fangs stained red. “Did you fucking come?” he demanded hoarsely, sounding almost angry at the fact.

Harry squirmed, wondering if Louis could feel the wetness of his come through several layers of clothing. He nodded somewhat desperately, and the next thing he knew, Louis’ hands were on his bum, lifting him and pressing him tight, and then he was being carried. Instinct had him wrapping his legs around Louis’ middle, stabilizing him, and the next thing he knew he was being lifted up stairs and then deposited in the middle of a bed.

“Do you have any idea—“ Louis cut himself off suddenly, staring down at him with those predator’s eyes. Harry shivered, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Louis,” he whispered, his mouth stinging along his cut. “I—“ Louis leaned down, pressing his hips in between Harry’s legs.

“You—?”

Harry swallowed hard, already feeling his cock begin to stir. “Please?”

Louis’ eyes darkened and he leaned down to kiss Harry again, who jolted at the press of a tongue to the cut in his mouth. Louis’ hands slipped between them to undo the button on Harry’s jeans, and he clumsily kicked his shoes off—somewhere in the world his mum would be yelling about how That Is How You Ruin Shoes, Harry—so Louis could press his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and slip them over his hips, his bum.

Louis pulled back from the kiss, leaning back to examine him. His eyes dragged across the dark, wet spot on the front of Harry’s briefs, the outline of his thickening cock visible through the cotton. “Look at you, already want to come again, don’t you, baby?” he crooned, and smirked at the very visible twitch in Harry’s cock. He slid his hands up, and set about tugging Harry’s shirt up and over his head.

Louis exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on Harry’s chest, his nipples, his stomach. He felt self-conscious for exactly half a second, but then Louis’ mouth was on his nipple, sucking, and Harry’s back bowed off the bed. He whimpered, gritted his teeth against the perfect pleasure-pain of the pressure on his nipple, and threaded his fingers through Louis’ hair to hold him there. Somehow Louis was able to graze his teeth across his nipple without piercing his skin, and when Harry cried out at the sensation, he repeated it again and again. Harry trembled, his hips bucking up to press his cock into Louis’ belly, and suddenly the barrier of Louis’ shirt was too much. He tugged at Louis’ hair, pulling him up, off.

“Shirt,” he gasped, shaking as he met Louis’ dark eyes. “Please, Louis, wanna—wanna feel you.”

Louis groaned at that, and leaned back onto his heels to unbutton his shirt, staring Harry down with a smirk. His skin was smooth, even, broken only by the fair dusting of hairs down his belly and the harsh line of his waistband. Just below that, the thick outline of his cock pressed demandingly against his trousers, and Harry whined, high in his throat, at the sight of it.

That earned him another kiss, hot, open-mouthed. “Fuck, you taste like blood and my cock,” Louis groaned, pulling away wild-eyed. He paused, and then his eyes narrowed as a devious expression crossed his face. “Wanna know what you really taste like, baby.” He thumbed at the waistband of Harry’s underwear, apparently waiting for permission.

At Harry’s eager nod, his underwear was removed, leaving him naked and aching. Louis eyed him appreciatively, cupping a hand around his cock, still wet with his own come. There was something both fascinating and incredibly arousing about the way that his hand was dwarfed by Harry’s cock, about the way his slender fingers gripped and slid up and down his shaft. Harry groaned, long and drawn out, and Louis smirked at him once before dipping his head to suck at him. Harry had a moment of slight panic at the thought of fangs and his cock, but as he felt something warm and wet envelope his cock, he closed his eyes on a groan, fear gone.

With how good at kissing Louis was, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he was good at sucking a cock. Talented mouth, and all that. Opening his eyes, Harry found himself transfixed by the way his cock disappeared into Louis’ mouth, his lips stretched wide over the width of it. He couldn’t get all of it in his mouth, apparently, but Harry barely noticed nor cared. He felt high, like his head was disconnected from his body but still able to feel every single slide of a tongue or squeeze of a hand. Everything was hot, his vision narrowed like he was in a tunnel with Louis’ beautiful fucking eyelashes and sinful mouth at the other side, and his cock itself felt both over and under-sensitized, his balls heavy and tight. He felt like he was going to come, all too soon again, though this time at least he had the excuse of actual stimulation. But he didn’t want—he wanted to come with Louis inside him.

“Louis,” he said. It came out rough and broken, embarrassingly, and then he was gasping at the way Louis moaned around his cock. He bit his lip, breathing heavy, and tried again. “Louis, ‘m gonna come.” Hopefully Louis would know what he was trying to say, trying to ask. When Louis instead nodded and bobbed his head more vigorously along Harry’s length, he thought perhaps not. Third time was the charm. “Wanna come on your cock.”

That did the trick—Louis pulled off agonizingly slow, giving Harry a challenging look that made him determined to do this again, to find a way to insert himself in the vampire’s life, if only to get his soul sucked out through his cock. Figuratively. He didn’t think vampires actually took souls, although he was by no means an expert. A quick light scrape of a fang against his thigh had his attention slammed back onto Louis, who raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.

“Want my cock, babe?” he asked Harry, all confidence and crooked smiles and dark eyes and full lips and—

Harry nodded eagerly, sitting up so fast they nearly bumped heads.

“Yeah? It’s all yours.” Louis unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them over his delightfully thick thighs and off completely—when had he taken his shoes off? Had Harry missed something? At the sight of Louis’ cock, hidden beneath a slightly damp patch on his underwear, Harry decided that now was probably not the time for wondering about the Many Mysterious Powers of Vampires. Now was probably the time to get that delicious cock inside him as quickly as possible. His hands beat Louis’ to the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down and staring at the way his cock sprung free and bobbed slightly in the air. Mouth dry, he reached out to palm it, but Louis moved first, pressing him flat against the bed with a kiss against his throat.

One of Louis’ hands moved to his hair, pulling his head back so that his throat was more exposed. He sucked a path from the hollow of Harry’s throat to the jaw, fangs brushing over his skin in a way that made the head of his cock smear more precome across Louis’ belly. He whined, so fucking far past being embarrassed, and Louis pulled back to stare at him, mouth curved slightly into a smile. He pulled back even further, reaching over Harry’s body to a nightstand by the bed, grabbing something. Then: the noise of a bottle being snapped open, and Louis was back to sucking at his neck while a hand raised his hips from the bed and a slick finger probed his entrance.

He arched his hips down, penetrating himself onto Louis’ finger, letting out a ragged groan into the softness of Louis’ hair. More. God, more. Louis laughed into his neck, high and strained, and then a second finger joined the first, stretching him. Louis pumped his wrist slowly, and Harry groaned in frustration at the sensation that was just almost white-hot but not entirely there. He pumped his hips down, trying to fuck himself harder on Louis’ fingers, and Louis pulled back, stopped moving, letting him do all the work. He felt his face flushing, knowing that Louis’ eyes were on him, his face, as he fucked himself on Louis’ fingers, like some little slut that couldn’t get enough of it.

One particularly well-aimed motion had Louis’ fingers brush his prostate, and it was like an electric pulse applied to his body. He froze, jerking, and then was at it again, harder now that he knew where to go to chase the feeling. Louis groaned, pumping his hand in earnest now, slipping in a third finger with ease, and Harry exhaled roughly, almost seeing stars. The fourth finger was not so easy. He could feel his body mold to the additional width, and then cried out as Louis hit that perfect spot in him again with fucking perfect force.

“—fucking perfect,” Louis echoed his thoughts, quietly enough that Harry wasn’t sure he had spoke, and then they were kissing. Every jab at Harry’s prostate had him whimpering and squirming under Louis, his breath punched out of him. Louis took to sucking on his lip, flicking his tongue expertly over the small cut and Harry made a desperate noise high in his throat.

“Please, Louis, your cock,” he begged, his hips still moving on Louis’ fingers even as he asked him to stop.

Louis pulled his fingers out slowly, careful not to hurt him, and then was reaching over Harry to grab a small foil packet from his nightstand and rip it open with. He slowly slid the condom over his cock, and met Harry’s eyes, anticipation heavy in the air between them. His hand closed over Harry’s hip, pulling him closer, and Harry reached up to snake a hand into his hair, tugging at the silky strands. The thick head of Louis’ cock pressed against his entrance—he was ready to explode—and then slipped inside him, the tantalizing first few inches.

Louis kept pressing, deeper and deeper, until he bottomed out. It wasn’t until he began to move, pulling back out, that Harry realized he had stopped breathing. He inhaled on a quick gasp that became a moan as Louis hips snapped back forward, burying his cock again. He arched his back into the thrusts, hard and even and sure, hearing his own breathing and the tiny gasping moans that Louis was driving out of him.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Louis groaned back, his words punctuated by a hard roll of his hips that pressed his cock perfectly against Harry’s prostate. “Fuck, listen to you? Little slut, crying all over my cock.”

Harry flushed even as his mouth opened to let another moan out, tugging hard at Louis’ hair with his hand. Louis leaned down, pressing their bodies tightly together, and kissed him, flicking his tongue across Harry’s lips as his hips drove into him, faster and harder. It was the memory of the bite that had him nearly crying out at the simple feel of Louis’ mouth against his, and the memory of the bite that had him desperate to have it now, again.

“Bite me,” he whimpered into Louis’ mouth, and he could fucking feel the way Louis shuddered above him, cock fucking pulsing inside of him, and then Louis’ mouth moved to his neck and his fangs pierced his skin.

Harry bucked hard, pinned in place by Louis’ weight, and screamed at the rush of pleasure through his body, so good that it was painful. Louis’ tongue pressed against his skin, starting to lap at the puncture wounds, and then his mouth sealed over the area and he sucked hard into Harry’s skin. He felt torn in half, his body split along an axis between the pressure on his neck, heady and out of control, and the place where Louis’ cock filled him, hard and sure. He felt nothing but pleasure, could hear nothing but his own breathing, hard gasps in time with Louis’ thrusts. He felt both like he was seconds—a breath—away from coming and like he had been coming steadily for hours.

When he did come, it was with a scream and a rush so intense he nearly blacked out.

Louis pulled off his neck sharply, leaving him shaking and almost crying, and yanked his hair hard, pounding into him with renewed vigor. Harry’s come was smeared across their bellies, hot and sticky, and his blood was smeared across his mouth. With the narrowed, fierce look in his eyes, Louis really looked like a vampire.

“Taste so good, babe—fucking coming all over my cock,” Louis growled at him, and leaned down to suck hard at the bite again.

It was like going from a 2 to a 10 in about half a second—Harry moaned roughly, his eyes rolling back into his head. His body trembled at the feeling, almost too much to handle, particularly after an orgasm, and he clenched tightly around Louis’ cock. At that, Louis shuddered above him, sucking harder at his neck in a way that instantly had his entirely over-sensitized cock fattening up again, all too soon. He tried to flinch away from the rub of his cock against Louis, while simultaneously arching his neck up into the vampire’s mouth, and the result was a spasmodic wiggle that had his hips twisting closer, the harsh rhythm of Louis’ cock stuttering.

Louis jerked back into tempo roughly, but he seemed to be losing control over it gradually as his hips sped up, his movements becoming choppy. Harry grunted at each impact, feeling like pure pleasure was being pushed inside his body and dragged out through his neck, a little pleasure cycle that had him blissed out and unable to control the noises ripped from his throat. He clenched down on Louis’ cock again, groaning, and then Louis pulled back enough from his neck to moan back and then they both were coming.

Harry can’t remember the moments immediately following that, but what he could remember was being suddenly clean with a bandage across his neck, and that Louis was no longer inside him, but beside him on the bed, breathing hard. He felt utterly exhausted, like he had run a marathon or wrestled—well, wrestled a vampire. He giggled somewhat loopily at that thought, and Louis raised his head from the pillow to frown at him.

“I just shagged your brains out, Harold, what could possibly be funny?”

This made Harry giggle harder. “Vampire wrestling,” he explained with a wide smile. Louis frowned harder before his face cracked into a reluctantly charmed smile.

“Just go to sleep, Harry.”

But Louis pressed a hand to Harry’s face and kissed him once, twice. He did roll his eyes at the dopey smile still on Harry’s face, but then he entwined their fingers and threw an arm over Harry’s hip, closing his eyes. Apparently vampires did sleep. Harry made a mental note of that for later, and then pressed closer to Louis, breathing in his smell, his heart suddenly tight in his chest.

All in all, for his first time meeting a vampire, he’d say it went pretty well.

 

 


End file.
